2018-10-10 - How to get Mindmelted
The sound of pants in the hallway is the announcement of arrival; silk has a specific sound, and very few in this world can wear it with the level of confidence required for that gait. Though generally one to call ahead, this is too well timed for it to be anything but trouble. With Emma having only just arrived, either a student is ...no, it's Tessa. There are no others who would not only know of every event occurring in the household without the use of powers, and who would dare to enter at this particular moment. Thus does Tessa enter the silver lion's den at the worst possible moment. She looks, as always, untouched. A statue in motion. And possibly Emma's least valued friend. "I'm coming in. Put on your face if you care to do so." Yep. Blunt. Emma, for her part, is collapsed in an armchair, Wagner blasting loudly from her phonograph, ashtray filled with stubbed out butts, claret glass in hand, 3/4 empty bottle tilted precariously on the white carpet next to her. Tessa's arrival is noted and the door opened with a gesture. Someone got themselves an X-Box it seems. Probably for the youngest. "What is it, Tessa?" she asks, equally blunt, not even trying to put on her usual patina of civility. Then her instincts get the better of her. "Chocolates? Wine? Bourbon? Name your poison. It's yours." This is unusual. Her voice is slurring. She doesn't usually let it get that far. And ... her clothing is in disarray, like she's not caring about her appearance. Shocking! The darkling eyes Tessa sports are normally hidden behind ruby glasses, much like Cyclops' own. Today she walked in without them, cut off from whatever she's doing behind them in that dark pit of a brain that gives up so little to the telepaths of the group. "Why else would I come to your room when you're treating yourself like this?" she asks, pausing to pour herself a crystal decanter of brandy. She sets herself the task of identifying every ingredient by aroma alone, as she always does. But then, this talking uses so little of her attention. As she looks about the room, she barely glances at Emma. Then says, "Went well then did it?" She allows the comment to linger, then and only then turns her eyes to look at Emma's gaze. Like a god damn robot sometimes. Emma turns haunted eyes to Tessa. "Logan and I have been talking. About." She pats her belly. "One of our own. Today I saw the fruits of my mothering skills. My son. Ish." She heaves an unsteady breath and guzzles the rest of her glass, unsteadily pouring its replacement. "And I had to abuse him. My son. Ish. Oh, for all the right reasons of course!" Her voice turns into a sneer. "I always have good reasons when I hurt people, don't I?" Another half-glass vanishes into her gullet. "I can't do it. I can't be a mother. Not ... he ... I ... I'm terrible at it. I can't do it. I always hurt people I'm meant to care for." Anyone else. Anyone else would react to this, would show a heart and break down at the pain that Emma's showing, this moment of openness that lets down her guard. But it had to be Tessa, and the response is perhaps the worst one that could possibly be done. And knowing Tessa, it's somehow on purpose. "Good, I'm glad we're on the same page about you. I was hoping to use you to hurt one of your students." She pauses to let that sink in, absolutely straight-faced, and waits only a heartbeat before continuing. She does not let Emma have time to process and pushes forward. "For her own good of course. Because isn't it always? We have a problem and I want you to deal with it." Emma's eyes widen like someone just stuck a shiv in her. She stares at Tessa like she is some sort of alien being, seeming, from her fish-moving mouth, to be at a loss for words. "What?!" Real eloquent-like, Emma. "Yes, I rather thought so. I'm not commenting on your infant, or whether or not you should keep it. I hardly think that's my business," she says after dropping that level of bomb in the room a moment before. "I have work for you to do and I want you to deal with it. But I see I need to get to the point before you pass out from blood poisoning." Tessa crosses her legs calmly, looking the most dangerous person on the planet in the eyes. "You've noticed Miss Sinclair's intense reaction to nearly anything that occurs. I've been watching, it's hardly a secret. It makes you raise a level of shields that almost makes you useless, for a few moments. And you're likely the strongest person there is." The fact that she's bringing this in right now...it's almost like she's trying to get Emma to have a mental breakdown. But it's true; whenever Rahne goes bonkers on guilt, Emma's shields go into lockdown. Not for long, but quite powerfully. Emma blinks as she tries to keep up (and almost succeeds). "Young Rahne? Yes, her feelings can be very strong. They're like ... someone shouting in my ear at times. I put up shields so I can continue thinking. We're working on mitigating her reactions. There's ... a large amount of culture shock." Emma's speech is slurred and her mannerisms sloppy, but her care for her students continues unabated apparently. "She will be fine in a while. She's starting to learn and to adapt. Being exposed to alternative viewpoints is helping." The cobalt eyes, hard as flint, betray nothing of the plan she's working right now, though there definitely is a plan. Tessa does nothing without deep thought and now is no exception. Definitely not, not with this much at stake. As she sips her brandy, having finally identified the last ingredient (a rare caramel as it happens) she lets Emma speak, the entire affair timed to a nanosecond. The slurring in Emma's speech goes unremarked. The content not so much. "She will. Then she'll die to the first hostile telepath she encounters. Her mind is dangerously open and she's honest to a fault, which will have her lifespan measured in months, if not days depending on combat events. I'd like you to help her weaponize it instead. Specifically take the guilt and help her to work while it's active, and if possible to be able to call it up on command. It's by far her best defense, and if she can emit that kind of mental wall she'll be able to rip the throat out of any psychic on record. Including you or me." "As I said, for her own good. She could be wonderfully effective, and it's a technique that no telepath is trained to deal with. Yet. We do tend to learn from our mistakes." Long distance to Emma Frost: Tessa waits to see how the dice roll. Long distance to Cecannia Eirissach: Tessa rolls the dice. From afar, Cecannia Eirissach grins You paged Cecannia Eirissach with 'If she says yes, she might be broken forever. But I'm betting everything that this is even worse that Emma will do to a student.' Cecannia Eirissach pages: Yupyup You paged Cecannia Eirissach with 'And Emma will have chosen to be something more than a monster. And she can't deny it.' Cecannia Eirissach pages: Yupyup You paged Cecannia Eirissach with 'But I didn't clear this with the player. This is an actual hail mary here.' From afar, Cecannia Eirissach whistledamns From afar, Cecannia Eirissach keeps her mouths hut You paged Cecannia Eirissach with 'You can see why I couldn't say anything though. This is a rough moment for Emma, I needed to do something real.' Cecannia Eirissach pages: Yeah From afar, Cecannia Eirissach hugs. Emma stares a while as she processes what she's asked to do. Then her eyes widen. Then they narrow dangerously. What was that term used before? The most dangerous person on the planet? That person is now looking at Tessa with cold, calculated rage. "I will NOT abuse Rahne "for her own good", Tessa!" she snaps, standing--well trying to. It takes a moment to stabilize. "You were there for my Hellions. You saw what I did to them. NEVER! AGAIN!" The last two words are practically screeched as Emma staggers toward Tessa. Murder is in her eyes. Again. Film at six. "I can't even imagine what would make you think ... of this! Did I infect you with my illness?" "Hardly," Tessa says, allowing Emma time to do this. She doesn't twitch nor flinch, arguing the point a bit further. Why? Who knows. "She will need a true defense someday and you know it. That innocent little brain is silly putty. She wouldn't even have to be aware. You could easily keep her heart growing while making her safe. Set a wall between her and that dark core." Is she trying to get murdered? There's a chance that this is how she really thinks; she did do far worse in the Hellfire Club. But it was all a mask, wasn't it? Tessa taps her fingernails on her lap quietly, wondering in a hidden part of her brain if Emma will ever forgive her for this evening. Likely not. Emma is at a loss for words. To the point that even rage escapes in a welter of confusion. "You understand, don't you, that we're not computers like you?" she sneers. "That we don't compartmentalize and turn pieces on and off at will. People--RIGHTLY--have told me I was being evil for doing this kind of thing. You think I'm going to do it on someone as fragile and innocent as Rahne?" She waves dismissively. Staggering a bit, but not caring. She's still the White Fucking Queen now. "Do it yourself, Tessa, if you think you can get through me first. My children aren't my weapons." And Tessa waits. She waits, allowing Emma to get it out. To see if she can really drive this point home against the Evil Tessa, who apparently will do anything to win. A computer. A robot. A tactician. "And next time you look at yourself and decide that you're unworthy of being a teacher, think about this moment. And come back to me and tell me exactly how you're evil at your core, and how the students are in danger with you holding them tight." She looks at Emma quietly now, waiting for this to really sink the fuck in. "Or how you're unworthy as a mother, when you'll protect the ones you love the most against even logic, the future, and anything in the universe." Well? Go ahead. Tell her she's wrong. Emma rocks back at the onslaught. At the sudden reversal of roles. At the viciously surgical slap to the depths of her self-pity, dislodging it. And Emma does as Emma will: she puffs up with anger, flushing an ugly red that goes beyond the flushing from being drunk. "..." Thing is, it's hard to be angry at being schooled if the person schooling you is RIGHT. And has, in her back-handed way, basically pointed out you're decent. You're good. How do you get angry at that? "..." Emma gives it the old college try but the flush is fading fast (except for the alcoholic part) and the booze is back to dominating adrenaline for her attentions. "...Thanks." Emma mutters that as she slides back into the seat, not looking Tessa in the eye. "I probably deserved that." Cecannia Eirissach clapclaps. You two play off one another amazingly Emma Frost says, "Good partners bring out my best." Finally cracking the slightest hint of a smile, Tessa allows herself to show slight relaxation. Posture, tone, it all helps. She says, "Well, if you had agreed I think that we'd have had to kill you, so it would have worked out either way." She lets Emma hear the sound of obvious sarcasm in her voice now that she's no longer in need of iron-clad control. Then she sips her brandy. Very good year. "You obviously needed it, and given how hard a head you and I both have, I doubt anyone else would know how to get things working." She turns to look at Emma, her eyes still dark. Still evil. But who isn't? "These kids need you. Not the old you, the person that you've become. The one we don't have to kill in her sleep." Tessa considers, clearly doing so visibly as she touches her own chin with long, typist's fingers. "That worked so well on you. You and Rahne both have a very similar type of self-hatred going on. There are similarities." She looks at Emma for a moment, then raises her right eyebrow. "Think I should try it on her?" Don't poke the fragile bear looking for an excuse to lash out. That's the usual advice. And for a few heartbeats it looks like there's a reason for that. Murder is in Emma's eyes again as she leans forward, ready to scream and leap, ready to strip the flesh from Tessa's bones. Beat. Beat. That's three heartbeats. "You take chances, robot," Emma says, settling back in her chair with a weak grin. "I'm kind of toasted right now so the joke went over my head a second." Pause. Deadly eyes. "If that wasn't a joke, though, touch Rahne and you will suffer before you die. I will make sure that you can't firewall it away." Pause. Then grin again. Tessa raises her glass silently now, having done with words. She accepts the threat as the very real thing that it is, and is glad. Because Emma needs a target right now. Because she needs a good drink. And because there are evil things out there that have to get through them both in order to harm a single child in this building. So she drinks. "This is a good bottle." You don't have to be a telepath to read Emma's thoughts. Better than you deserve you hateful bitch. Thought in a cheerful, perky voice, but thought nonetheless.